Arrows
by Beatrice Otter
Summary: A mission gone wrong. JohnTeyla.


AN: Written for jeyla4ever for the JohnTeylaFic ficathon.

* * *

John could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw the arrow protruding from Teyla's chest. She collapsed to her knees, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she passed out. "Shit!" he screamed, as he swung around and shot the enemy they'd both missed in the undergrowth. He scanned the area quickly to see if they'd missed any more of the locals before dropping to check her. She still had a pulse, albeit a slow, thready one; good. He grabbed her and made his way through the woods, trying to be as stealthy as possible. The natives were only armed with bows and some kind of spear that they hurled with a stick, but they were accurate and there were a lot of them. And they could camouflage themselves like nobody's business.

There! He spotted a large bush growing around the base of a tree, and a gap through its branches he figured he could get them through. Hopefully there would be enough room under there for both of them. And no man-eating animals. "Sorry about this," he muttered to Teyla—who still hadn't regained consciousness—as he dragged her in and tried to rearrange some of the branches to conceal the entrance. He checked her pulse again; still there, thank God. He knew better than to try to remove the arrow; that wicked barbed head would probably do more damage coming out than it did going in. She was bleeding, but not too badly for a chest wound; he grabbed a bandage out of one of the pockets on his vest and packed it around the arrow to help stop the bleeding. Without a med kit, that was all he could do; they'd been forced to leave behind most of their gear in the escape from the village.

He toggled his radio on; he'd been forced to turn it off in the escape, lest the noise give them away. This bush wasn't the first one they'd gone to ground in. "McKay, Ronon," he said quietly. "What's your status?"

"Oh, thank God!" McKay replied. "I was sure you were both dead. Why haven't you been responding?"

"They could hear my radio," Sheppard said. "We had to turn them off. Are you at the Gate?"

"No, but we're close to it," Ronon said. "Need us to come back and get you?"

"Nah, we're about three klicks on the other side of the village and these woods are swarming with natives. You'd never make it on foot, and Teyla needs medical assistance right _now_." He swallowed, lowering his voice again. "Get to the Gate, dial Atlantis, and tell them to send a Jumper with a squad of Marines and Doctor Beckett. I'll leave my radio on so the Jumper can find me, but don't contact us unless it's an emergency. This isn't the first time we've thought we lost them."

"Right," said Ronon.

"How badly is—"

"McKay," Ronon growled, cutting the scientist off. "No talking."

The radio went silent, and John sank back with a sigh. Another thing he wished he had was his earpiece; then he could have listened in without fear of being overheard.

He stretched out as much as he could in the cramped hollow; with Teyla laid out flat, there wasn't much room for him. He stroked her hair, gently. John wished he could take her head in his lap, but weak as she was that might run the risk of cutting off her air supply. It was always hard as hell to watch a friend or teammate get injured; it was worse when it was Teyla. God! Sitting here helpless. He forced his breathing to even out and slow down. Hyperventilating wouldn't help the situation.

He wished he had a coat or something to put over her, to keep her warm and prevent shock. But their coats had been taken with everything else, and unlike his vest they hadn't been able to snag them in their escape. And there wasn't enough room in this little hole in the brush to lie next to her and keep her warm with body heat.

Teyla shifted under his hands, and let out a small moan. John covered her lips with his hand to muffle it, praying there weren't any natives in earshot. She started thrashing, trying to escape it.

"Shhh," Teyla, he said quietly. "It's me, John. We need to be quiet."

It seemed to get through to her. " … John?"

"Teyla." John closed his eyes, feeling weak from relief as she responded.

" … happened?"

"We got captured by natives, don't know what they call themselves. Gear was taken. We managed o escape, but had to split up. Rodney and Ronon are headed for the Gate; they should be bringing through a squad of Marines and Doctor Beckett, any second now. You just rest until they get here."

Teyla listened to this with glazed, uncomprehending eyes. She tried to shift, and moaned again.

"You have an arrow in your chest." Sheppard unclenched his jaw. "I'm leaving it there till Beckett gets here; I don't want to risk taking it out." He thought she understood him, but it was hard to tell.

Her eyes drifted closed again, and John let his head fall back on the roots behind him, trying not to think about things like 'internal bleeding' and 'organ damage.' He checked her bandages; she hadn't bled through them. If she was losing enough blood to make her woozy, it wasn't coming out.

* * *

Where were they? Surely his teammates had had time to get to the Gate by now. Were they all right? Were they captured? Injured? Dead? He could feel Teyla's every breath, hand resting on her chest. It seemed each breath was shallower than the last.

He listened intently to the sounds the forest made; there was no sign at all that there was anyone else for miles. Their former captors were incredible hunters, but apparently not so great with the teamwork; the guy who shot Teyla had probably been entirely alone, no backup. So if they'd lost everyone else—and given the amount of rocky ground they'd gone over and streams they'd waded through, it was pretty likely that they had—there might not be anyone within several miles.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Teyla," he said quietly. "But I just … wanted to make sure this got said, even if you can't. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're the one who makes the team hang together, despite Rodney's arrogance and Ronon's aloofness and my laid-backness. You're the one who makes _me_ hang together." He clenched his jaw, listening to her breath rasping quietly.

"I think I'm in love with you," he said at last. "I just …really don't want to screw up our friendship or the team dynamic, and I've never managed a long-term relationship, before. Truth to tell, I've never really wanted one, before, and it's kind of freaking me out that ... it wouldn't be out of the question at the moment. To have a long-term relationship, with you." He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry if I've been giving out kinda mixed signals." John shook his head. "Y'know, if it turns out that the only kiss we ever have is the one when I was _turning into a freaking bug_ I'm going to be seriously annoyed at life."

His head shot up at a faint noise in the distance. It sounded like—

"Colonel Sheppard, do you copy?" Stackhouse's voice crackled out of his radio.

"I'm here. What's your ETA?" _Oh, thank God_, he thought.

"We'll be there in two minutes. Scanners aren't picking up anyone else in your vicinity."

"Good to know. I'll be waiting outside the hole I've got Teyla stashed in. Make sure Beckett's ready to go as soon as you land, she's not doing so hot."

"Yessir."

John let go of Teyla's hand, pausing when she made a noise. He looked down to find her watching him, eyes just as glazed as the last time she'd been awake. "They're just about here. I'm gonna go out and show them where we are. You're gonna be just fine."

He turned away from Teyla and began forcing his way through the bushes, making the hole larger as he went, and wishing he had a machete to hack some of the branches back. He remembered it being bigger, somehow; getting her out without further injury was going to be a challenge. By the time he had a decent sized opening made again, the jumper was down and Beckett was out with his medical kit.

* * *

Two days later Teyla was stable and allowed visitors. He came in with the rest of the team, and mostly sat there while Rodney talked about what a screwed-up mission it had been, what idiocies his fellow scientists were committing as he spoke, what the mess hall was serving, and what new toys the Daedalus would bring for his lab on its next run. John inserted comments and corrections here and there, trying to seem normal, and resisting the urge to run his hand over Teyla's arm, the one not hooked up to anything. Ronon didn't say much.

After about half an hour, Doctor Beckett poked his head through the curtains that blocked off Teyla's bed from the main infirmary. "I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid visiting hours are over for now," he said. "I want to make sure she gets plenty of rest. That was a close one. You're welcome to come back in a few hours, once she's had a bit of rest."

"Aw, come on, Doc, just ten more minutes," John said, with his most charming smile. He'd seen the way her eyelids were drooping, but he could be quiet. He could even make Rodney shut up, if only by siccing Ronon on him.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Beckett replied. "But she was in surgery for almost eight hours. Even with Ancient technology to keep the trauma to a minimum, that takes a great deal out of a person." He stood there as they trooped out, Rodney complaining as usual.

"John," Teyla said as he left.

"Yeah?" He turned to face her.

"I do not remember much after being shot, and what I do remember is quite … indistinct," she said. "And I believe I may have been hallucinating for at least a part of that time, but I seem to recall you speaking to me. I think it may have been important. Was it?"

John paused, conscious of Doctor Beckett standing next to him, Rodney and Ronon waiting behind him, and a busy infirmary full of Marines and scientists behind them. He thought about friendship, and team, and mission, and the reasons behind the rules. He ignored the pain in his chest. "Not really, no."


End file.
